They call me Völundr
by Cretha Loesing
Summary: There are just too many problems with my mutation. What I hate about it, is the fact that is severely inhibits me. All the time. The rest of us, so-called 'Mutants', haven't got anything. Their mutations don't cause them daily pain... after all, who said mutations were an evolutionary advantage?


Black and White sorrow

There are just too many problems with my mutation.  
What I hate about it, is the fact that is severely inhibits me. All the time. The rest of us, so-called 'Mutants', haven't got anything. Their mutations don't cause them daily pain... after all, who said mutations were an evolutionary advantage? My name: Anna Wayland Northington. They call me Völundr.

* * *

The brightness of the moonlight was unsettling.

Of course, I'm not one to complain. It helps me define shadow from moonlight. It also makes the streets more dramatic, the high contrast between shadow and light.

Unfortunately for me though, I had no idea what in the name of mother hell had brought me here. You'd think hearing a voice was bad enough, especially with the accompanying migraines- but no, I had to follow that damn voice and look where it lead me?

Some park, somewhere- I haven't the slightest idea where -waiting for two... phantasms? "Special people" the voice had said, to mysteriously show up out of the blue.

Honestly. Combine this with the fact that schizophrenia can be carried through genes (my mother was schizophrenic), and the fact my father is manic, things are not looking up for my mental health.

Before you, dear reader ask, no. I don't want to talk about it. The chances of you reading further in this notebook and finding the 'tragic back-story' is slim. Extra-slim. Like thread-thin, if not less.

Back to the original train of thought, this voice informed me I was being mind-read. Imagine this, I've had my mind read by some Telepath in Salem, NY. I had no idea there was a Salem in New York, but there's too many people there for my to find out.

"Hi," a man walks out of the trees, flanked by a white-haired woman, and mister I'm-wearing-a-visor-like-Geordi-La-Forge.

I opted to remain silent. The woman is strange enough, white hair and african-american decent mark her as a clear mutant. GLF-impersonator seems to be rather stoic. Hi-guy (unintentional rhyming, I assure you) is brawny, extremely muscular, and looks to be the most dangerous of the lot. He smokes, fights and wears a leather jacket- though he's not so egotistical to not have some sort of protective streak- even for his companions.

They're waiting for me to say something. However a few years of child-abuse (three to be precise) and constant bullying has given me the ability to remain silent. Never mind the psychological impacts of it, I don't really consider it a loss. Less trust is something that has proven to be beneficial. Goodness knows- there are a fair amount of old-men perverts on the street... more than I care to name.

"...are you going to say something, or just stand there?" Hi-guy asks again.

"Yes," I told him curtly. He's the type that will annoy me easily- ignore the hints and just go on ahead, brashly and arrogantly I might add. Wonderful silence meets me again.

"I'm Storm, this is Wolverine and Cyclops," the woman, Storm of all the cliche things to call herself, tries to make an ice-breaker.

My best guess is her powers have something to do with the weather, or storms in general. Wolverine- I think I heard of him. Dude has claws and freakish healing. Cyclops is the one with Laser-vision, and his name is such a pun.

Overall, odds are stacked against me. I expected two mutants- not three. Certainly not a Superman, climate woman and a guy who's mastered the literal connotation of the "Death Glare". Things are not looking up. At all.

"They call me Völundr," I told them, "And before you ask, Wolverine, it's the name of a master craftsman and smith in Nordic myth."

Wolverine grinned, "Makes you sound old." I snorted.

"Yours is just plain stupid sounding. I'm expecting a Gary-stu to show up any second," I lost him on the fan-fiction reference.

"A Gary-stu?" he asked puzzled.

"Male counterpart of a Mary-sue..." I then flashed him a grin, "I pray to lord that no one encounters one of those. Now if you'll excuse me, I will take my leave." I turned around to see a grinning Wolverine in front of me.

"Listen to us first," Storm spoke behind me. I clenched a fist, drawing blood as my pulse quickened in fear. I really hate to be cornered.

"Charles Xavier runs an academy- a... a haven for people like us-"

"Mutants," I coldly interrupted Storm, "people with 'special abilities' above average for the human race."

"Yes," she continued to talk, "we could help you control your powers, and offer you safety from the outside world." I felt a brief longing to be somewhere stationary- to not always be on the run... but the thought was assimilated almost instantly. Life worked in the way, like the Sioux traditions, you trade one thing for another. Always. Wolverine pulled out a cigarette in front of me, and I longed for nicotine patches- the craving had never quite gone away.

"In exchange for what?" I asked testily.

"We can discuss that on the jet," Cyclops slides in smoothly.

I bristled, "and if I refuse?"

"We're not thrilled about thieves. I'm here to bring you in," Wolverine grinned.

"We're here to bring you in," Storm corrected sharply.

Things were becoming clearer and clearer to me. I have practically no choice in the matter. I guess robbing cops and ferrying illegal immigrants across the border hasn't given me a good name.

"One thing you should know," I sidestepped so I wasn't trapped between the three of them, "your Charles Xavier gives me the worst migraines." I sprinted off, just as a red beam of light skimmed me by inches. Wolverine tackled me- fairly instantaneously, pinning me against him. I tried to squirm out of his arms, but was reduced to kneeing him below the belt and sticking my fingers in his eyes.

A laser skimmed my shoulder, the distraction gave Wolverine just enough time to sort-of grab me. I easily wriggled out of his arms, and the world grew dark around me very quickly. My fingers were freezing off.

I ran, sprinted actually, for all the hell I was worth, in less than a minute though, I was pinned under Wolverine again- literally having my breath squeezed out of me. The guy was freakishly heavy.

In short, he yanked my hands behind me back, handcuffed me, then yanked me up.

It was unfortunately, at this moment, I suffered a crippling migraine... and promptly blacked out.


End file.
